


Terms of Engagement

by tcwordsmith



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-19
Updated: 2013-05-19
Packaged: 2017-12-12 07:31:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcwordsmith/pseuds/tcwordsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The angels need a Shepherd, the Shepherd needs a Queen, and the Queen? Well, the Queen has needs of her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms of Engagement

“Who seeks an audience with the Queen?” A guard, some common black-eyed demon, bars her path to the throne room.

“An old friend; tell her God has dealt bitterly with me,” she says, choosing discretion over disdain.  The guard considers her for another moment before leaving her with a silent counterpart. She takes a deep breath and straightens her suit jacket; it feels strange still, to call herself by another name, but it’s more fitting, or at least more honest.

The guard returns, “The Queen will allow an audience. You are required to surrender your weaponry before entering the throne room.”  Naomi slips her blade from her sleeve and leans it against the wall.

“I shall return for that,” she murmurs before squaring her shoulders and stepping through the double doors. She won’t step back through until she has what she came for.

~

“ _Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great_ fall. _All the king’s horses and all the king’s men—_ Well, sunshine, you know how it goes. Look at you, you’ve tripped all the way down here and not a hair out of place, my _word_ ,” Abaddon kicks her feet up and over one arm of the throne, walking her scepter from one finger to the next on one hand, “Are your arms tired, Naomi darling?”

Naomi holds in a sigh and stands straighter, “I am called Mara now.”

Abaddon rolls her eyes and tips her head back until her circlet almost falls off, “’Dealt bitterly with you,’ yadda yadda, I know, but, baby doll, who hasn’t he fucked over lately?” She sits up and puts her feet back on the floor, “Okay, so out with it, why’d you tippy toe all the way down here in those pretty patent leather pumps?”

“The angels have fallen from Heaven.  Met—the Scribe utilized a large-scale version of the ritual used to oust the Morning Star,” Naomi says.

“I asked for the news, not the weather, sweet cheeks,” Abaddon chides, twirling her scepter and pointing it at Naomi.

Naomi continues, unruffled, “They fell to _Earth_.  Many were reborn, humans with no memory of divinity.  The majority of them fell as I did; cut off from Heaven, still imbued with Grace, and connected to one another.” Before Abaddon can cut in again, she fixes the Queen with her coldest of stares, “It is my secondary aim to seek _aman_ , protection, for all of these angels. My primary goal is to impress upon you the necessity of joining your forces to mine in order to secure heaven for the angels once more.”

She waits until Naomi finishes before rising from her throne, descending the stairs with the train of her dress following behind her. “You wish,” Abaddon breathes, stopping only when she’s inside Naomi’s personal space, “To join forces with the Queen of Hell to lay siege to the gates of Heaven?” Carefully, she trails the tip of her scepter along Naomi’s face.

“Yes. I see no other way to return my family to its home,” Naomi face is glacially impassive.

Abaddon rolls her lower lip between her teeth, “So, join forces, fight the usurper, restore the Host—what’s left of it—and…Go back to business as usual?  Why shouldn’t I just leave the remnant of the Host to suffer? It’s no skin off my nose if the birdies can’t fly home.” She turns and starts to ascend to her throne once more.

“But it is. If they’re not there,” Naomi looks up, “Then they’re on Earth. And in Purgatory, and eventually, they’ll come here. To hell. You know my Father placed fail safes upon fail safes. You surely remember the angels’ final line of defense?” She leaves her place and moves toward Abaddon, stopping just short of the steps to the throne.

“They wouldn’t. You wouldn’t allow them—you’re all about order and civility,” Abaddon replies, surety in her claim, “You never could bluff well.”

Naomi shakes her head, “I don’t have the power to stop them. Not here. ‘As it is in Heaven, so shall it be on Earth’ is merely a humanity-tinged pipe dream.  And few if any of them would swear fealty to your crown. If left to their own devices, as these angels are and will be if I cannot return them to heaven, they will resort to over-populating the three remaining planes in an effort to fortify themselves.

This flock, however small it may seem now, needs its Shepherd. And they will only recognize the voice of the Shepherd if it comes from Heaven.”

“Not a bluff then,” Abaddon’s face falls as she sits on the throne. She taps her scepter against the arm of her throne and thinks.

“It is in everyone’s best interests to act with some haste,” Naomi cautions after several minutes of silence.

Abaddon squares her shoulders and sits back against her throne, “Well, no one gets somethin’ for nothin’, honey. Let’s talk terms.  As you know, I recently came into my Queendom after a small skirmish with the Pretender to the throne. My claim is valid and strong, but I always like a little wiggle room.

I’ll agree to provide you with the necessary forces and supplies to lay siege against your usurper and in exchange, you will remain here as my Consort.”

Naomi watches Abaddon’s face carefully, everyone seems to remember Macedonia quite differently, but the queen gives away nothing. “I cannot simply remain here; I have a bevy of obligations to the throne I still serve. Provide my army with soldiers and supplies and once Heaven is reclaimed, once my oath is carried out, I shall return as your Consort.”

“What guarantee do I have that you’ll return? I know you don’t think a demon is worthy of your true word. Especially one of the First Fallen,” Abaddon looks down at Naomi. “Besides, we know how time flows between the planes, empires have risen and fallen in the time it takes an angel’s oath to come to completion.”

“I,” Naomi falters here, but just barely, “I will bind myself to you, that at the moment Heaven is secure, I have nowhere else to turn but back to your throne.”

“Mara, my love, _that_ is music to my ears,” Abaddon flashes a small smile at Naomi, stands and waves her scepter the length of her body. Her full length dress reverts to her former outfit, “That’s better.”  She smoothes the wrinkles in her jeans and tugs on the jacket to make sure it hangs properly.

“What are you doing?” Naomi inquires, watching as Abaddon descends from the throne once more.

“No queen allows her knights to ride into battle unless she leads them there,” Abaddon smirks, cupping Naomi’s face in her hands and kissing her soundly on the mouth. “Come, Consort,” she murmurs, “There are yet those we would deal bitterly with.”


End file.
